


Too Little, Too Late

by wesleyfanfiction_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-10
Updated: 2004-08-10
Packaged: 2018-07-12 08:45:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7094881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleyfanfiction_archivist/pseuds/wesleyfanfiction_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post “Not Fade Away.”  Someone from the past stops by to offer her final respects to a fallen hero.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Little, Too Late

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

Too Little, Too Late  
By Poodle~

 

She should have come sooner.

She knew in her heart it was wrong to stay away for so long. She should have told him the truth. But she was afraid. 

She was weak that way or maybe simply selfish.

It was peaceful here at dusk. Even though it was a foolish place to be with nightfall whispering around the corner. But she felt the need to stop by at least once before she left the city for good.

A final goodbye.

She should have come sooner. 

Should have come back years ago, in fact. She was such a coward. If she hadn’t been a coward, she wouldn’t have run in the first place. She would have told him the truth. But when it came down to it, she was more of a spoiled child than she had ever been willing to admit. Despite her father’s ulterior motives for pampering and sheltering her, the result was the same. Anything that did not suit the comfort of her reality was forfeit.

*He* was forfeit.

When her back was against the wall, she fled. 

She liked to think that in his own quiet way he had loved her. At least he went through the motions, all the appropriate nuances of a doting suitor, proper to a fault. British refinement oozing from his very pores. ‘Darling and Dear,’ falling flawlessly from his lips. Poised to open each and every door before she reached it.

The perfect couple.

His father would have been proud. 

Not that they ever talked about his father. Nothing more than an uttered comment now and again, but it was enough for her to glean the gist of a loveless home where appearances were everything. She could easily relate, being estranged from her own father.

At least *his* father never tried to sacrifice his only child to a Davric demon.

Still, the shadows lingering behind his eyes whispered of deeper sorrows than he ever confessed, so she often wondered just what sort of unspeakable horrors were visited upon a small, gangly child with wide, trusting eyes, peering out at the world from behind wire-framed glasses.

These days, she found herself wondering more about the child than the man. What was he like? It was easy to picture a tiny, studious child, surrounded by a mound of books, glasses forever slipping down his nose, studying spells and enchantments far beyond his years. 

A Harry Potter sort of child.

Or maybe her imagination was getting the better of her, and she was falling victim to an all too annoying American tendency to Potterise everything British.

Now, she would never know. She never took the time to ask about the little things and now she never could.

A subtle breeze picked up, gently tousling her auburn hair, and she gazed into the distance. It was peaceful here. A fitting place. One she would have chosen herself, had it been her place to choose. It was fortunate he was here instead of someplace far away in Europe.

Sad, the circumstances that left him abandoned in death on these far distant shores, discarded by those who should have cared the most. But Angel rose to the occasion and chose this place just outside the city. It was probably breathtaking at night with the towering lights glimmering in the distance, casting their glow against the rows of marble sentinels that marked each resting place.

When she returned to L.A., looking for him, a weary vampire with somber eyes was the only one who remained to tell the tale.

She was too late.

She should have come sooner.

She was selfish and afraid, all those years ago. It seemed a lifetime, though only three years had passed since they gallivanted from one celebrity event to another, arm-in-arm. He, the perfect escort. She, the darling of the tabloids.

She knew in her heart he would never leave this place. Never leave the brooding creature who abandoned them, leaving them to fend for themselves, to ‘fight the good fight’ as they valiantly called it – alone. 

They were all gone now: the sharp-tongued, aspiring actress, the brave, tough-talking street warrior, all but the broody-eyed vampire who solemnly told her where to find this final resting place.

She left the city that night, three years ago, when she realized, once and for all, he would never leave this crazy world behind, even if it killed him. A bullet in the gut was not enough to convince him that this reality would be the death of him and anyone close enough to get caught in the crossfire.

She didn’t want to get caught in that crossfire.

Years later, she still felt like she needed bandages to hold her guts inside.

It wasn’t that she didn’t care, no far from it. She cared more than she ever confessed. But she was afraid, more afraid than she let him know at the time. Terrified enough to leave the city and never come back. She knew what he did for a living, the crazy reality of things that went bump in the night, and she knew she had to get away. It wasn’t a reality she could live with anymore.

There was too much at stake.

She should have talked with him, tried to explain, but all she could think of was getting away. She should have told him the truth. Told him about the men in dark suits who showed up on her doorstep. The men with British accents who frightened her more than any demon ever could. 

Men who knew more about her than she knew about herself.

She should have told him, but everything happened so fast, and when she looked into his eyes that night she knew his alliance would always be to the vampire who abandoned their group.

She suspected the men on her doorstep were connected to his father, or the organization he was affiliated with years before – Watchers. But they knew about her.

Everything about her.

She knew how it felt to be trapped in the crosshairs of destiny, to be a child born and bred for a nefarious purpose beyond her control. She had to get away.

These men were dangerous.

She strongly suspected he wasn’t as insignificant to these people as he believed himself to be, or as insignificant to the world at large as he believed himself to be. Clearly, these Watchers did not relinquish their own lightly. He told her once that it was his legacy. 

Whether he wanted it or not.

They found her again in Chicago six months later, but never after that. She went too far underground.

There were worst monsters in the world than the creatures that lingered in the dark. Some sauntered around freely in the light of day.

She should have told him the truth rather than simply breaking it off and disappearing into the night, or at least, found a way to get in touch. But she was weak, a pampered, little rich girl, afraid of her own shadow…

She gazed into the distance.

Dusk was far too close for comfort. It lingered on the horizon, hinting of the dangers waiting just beyond the sunset.

She needed to leave while it was still safe. She felt a deep need to come here today. Too little. Too late. To stand on this hallowed ground, to see the stone, simple yet stark, inscribed with his name, the sun’s waning light shimmering on its surface.

He deserved better, but at least his final resting place was selected by someone who cared, even if that someone was a bit of an ass back when she had briefly known him. 

She should have come sooner.

Should have told him the truth about the men and why they were following her. Why she felt the battle was no longer worth fighting. Why too much was at stake. He deserved to know.

She drew a sigh; it was time to leave. She intended to turn and leave but instead she started to move nearer…

“It’s getting late.”

The voice drifted toward her from the clustered grove of oaks behind her and she gasped and turned around.

She could vaguely see his darkened silhouette cloistered in the shadows. Angel. The vampire had followed her.

“It isn’t safe out here,” he admonished softly. “I’ll walk you back to your car.”

She wanted to snap a biting retort, but she knew that he was right. And she could hardly stand in judgment of him when her own sins were far greater. She nodded and turned away, back to the stone.

It blurred before her eyes.

“The two of you are welcome to stay at the hotel tonight, if you like. It will be safer for you to leave in the morning.”

Was there a hint of expectation in his tone?

“Look, I know we were never exactly friends, but I’d like to help if I can.” Angel persisted. “You need to trust someone. I know that he would want--”

“Yes.” She heard the words before she realized that she was speaking. “I’ll come back with you to the hotel. You’re right….”

She drew a deep breath and clutched the tiny hand clasped in her palm…

…Looked down into the wide, blue eyes that stared up at her through wire-framed glasses. 

“You’re right. Wesley would want you to know him.”

 

~*End


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